Perfection
by Princess Sammi
Summary: She always strived for perfection.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Worst Witch or any of the characters associated with it.**

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**Perfection **

**Chapter 1  
**

Perfection was always something that Constance Hardbroom strived for in life whether it be in appearance or in her career as Deputy Head Mistress of Cackles Academy. She saw anything less than perfect as failure and that was not something that she wanted to be associated with.

Perfection had ruled and overpowered her life. Her desire to have the perfect figure when she was younger had lead to anorexia; which had nearly killed her. She believed that if she could control her weight then she could control her life and she _HATED _not being in control.

The pupils and staff of the school saw her as perfect: the bun her long beautiful hair was always tightly up in was perfect, her skills were perfect, her discipline and self control showed perfection too.

The biggest obstacle she had had to overcome in her life was one Hecketty Broomhead and the reign of terror which had come with her. For four years she had made Constance's life hell and she didn't know why, yes she lacking a _little_ in discipline but apart from that what had she ever done to her?

Upon hearing that Hecketty Broomhead was the one due to inspect the school: she had panicked and all the thoughts and fears she had had all those years ago came rushing back. Even the staff and pupils had noticed a change. She still had her usual cold and icy exterior but there was a distance to it as if she was hiding something. The staff had noticed how her breathing had become quick and shallow at the mention of her name, they had noticed the shakiness in her voice as she spoke and they had noticed the tears beginning to form in her eyes before she had made her excuses and disappeared.

When reaching her bedroom and knowing she was alone and not forced to keep up the pretence she sobbed wildly for at least half an hour. Deep deep down she desperately wanted someone to know just what she had been put through at the hands of that awful woman. She didn't want to be trapped in her own lonely and frightening prison any longer. But something stopped her: it was what others would think of her once they knew; she knew that when she told them she could no longer keep up the appearance of perfection as they would know the truth.

So she kept quiet and when she emerged some time later no one was any the wiser as she was perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: *Princess Sammi waves* **

**Sooo I have decided finally *Sammi breaks off, smiles at NCD and points out her sign saying 'about bloody time' is upside down* to attempt to turn this into a fully fledged fic. As of yet I have no idea where this is going but … Que Sera Sera … :D **

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Worst Witch, or anything associated with it**

***Sammi signs off and runs away singing 'I Could Have Danced All Night* **

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**Chapter 2  
**

"_**And maybe next time you'll do as you're told the first time" the older woman all but screamed as she struck the young girl on the floor in front of her with a full force blow to the face."**_

"_**But Mistress Broomhead … I ..."**_

"_**SILENCE" she snarled nastily, cutting her off, "did I ask for your opinion?" The girl wasn't sure if she was supposed to answer and not only that she wasn't sure she physically could; she was practically paralysed with fear.**_

"_**Well. DID I?"**_

"_**No M-M -Mistress B-Broomhead", she stuttered her voice barely above a whisper.**_

_**Suddenly the girl was hauled to her feet by her hair; the pressure was so intense that had it been any stronger clumps would surely have come out. The older woman grabbed her wrist and twisted it until she heard the bone snap and watched as a fresh set of tears ran down the girls cheeks, satisfied she was in pain she smiled maliciously. She then sat her bony finger on the girls chin holding her in a tight grip, making her look her directly in the eyes. **_

"_**Now you listen here and you listen good girl: You're mine. I own you and you will NEVER be free of me!"**_

Constance Hardbroom awoke with a start and forced herself to take a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart; which was beating so fast she felt it would come right out of her chest.

Looking at the clock on the bedside table next to her, she noticed it said 3am and whilst she never usually rose until 4am, when she prepared all her duties around the castle before the rest of the school woke at 6am, she knew it would be highly unlikely she would be able to get back to sleep again and in all honesty she wasn't sure she wanted to. Walking towards the wardrobe she pulled out her usual attire: a long black dress; long sleeved and high necked. It was the only thing that could hide the scars inflicted on her by that vile woman.

Yesterday's inspection had been like hell for Constance. The minute she had heard Heckitty's name, it was like a death sentence looming over her. Constance would have preferred actual death as at least that was quick and painless, but this had been like a slow and painful torture. Her stomach had twisted itself in knots making her feel physically sick; sick with fear and it took all the willpower she could muster to hold her emotions together and not have a panic attack.

She sat down at her dressing table and began to brush her long silky brunette hair, all the while her mind still on the previous day's events. Yes they had passed the inspection and Heckitty had been exposed for changing her identity; she may have been Wilhelmina Wormwood once upon a time but it was the form of Heckitty Broomhead that haunted Constance's dreams and waking existence. She had fooled herself into thinking that by not thinking about the past, it didn't exist. Forgetting that just because something could be removed from conscious thought, it didn't mean it could be removed altogether.

Constance averted her gaze from the mirror in front of her; she could feel her former tutors eyes burning into hers and judging her. It reminded her of a book she had read when she was younger: 'The Great Gatsby' and though it was about some poor fool who had a love never to be requited, there was the symbol of the eyes. The eyes stood for judgement; they were always there watching the characters every move and, to Constance, that's what it felt like with Heckitty: she was always there; always watching; always judging.

Closing her eyes tight she focussed all her energy on blocking out the image, blocking out the thoughts, blocking out the memories. After a few seconds she was satisfied and relieved to see her vision was once again clear. Taking a few deep breaths she tried to maintain her composure.

'_Now come on Constance_, she thought to herself, _pull yourself together, you're a grown woman now, and she can't do anything to you'_

If she said it enough, she reasoned, she might actually start to believe it. Tying her hair in its usual bun she left her room.

As it was still quite early she made sure to be extra quiet as she made her way to the potions lab. The lab was the only place she felt content and secure; it was her haven, her sanctuary. Sitting at her desk she began to write her lesson plans for each class.

Constance Hardbroom's potion classes were notorious for always being run with military precision and for being meticulously planned, always going without a hitch- Mildred Hubble being the exception of course- she was certainly a woman who paid attention to detail and thought if something was worth doing, then it was worth doing right.

However, this morning, no matter how hard she tried to she just couldn't concentrate: her mind was still fogged with the memories, or hell maybe being more appropriate, she had tried her hardest to suppress for years but would frequently come to the surface and force her to relive the terror she had endured when she was younger, and the throbbing headache wasn't much helping matters either.

She rested her elbows on the table, closed her eyes and began to massage her temples in an attempt to rid herself of it.

Realising this wouldn't work she decided she would need to cure it herself. After collecting the ingredients required and mentally running through her head what the procedure was she set to work. As she diced up the dried roots, keeping the sizes consistent obviously, for what was she if she wasn't a perfectionist?, she could hear Heckitty's voice in her head: telling her she was doing it wrong; telling her she was useless; telling her she was a failure.

Suddenly she couldn't take hearing the criticism any longer and without really thinking about it she flung the bubbling cauldron from its burner, the potion spilling all over the floor. Constance was just grateful for the sound proof spell which surrounded the laboratory, silencing any inkling of destruction. As the last thing she wanted to do was have to explain what had happened, as it would lead to too many questions; and they were questions she didn't even want to admit the answers to herself let alone to anybody else.

Feeling her tears come to the surface again partly through emotion and partly through frustration she wiped the underneath of her eyes to rid herself of any obvious signs of her crying, before she set about tidying up the mess she had caused. She had considered using magic to do it all with one flick of the wrist but decided that cleaning it by hand may actually be therapeutic; and she knew she had to regain her senses and composure before the second years came to potions in a few hours time or goodness knows what may happen and having a breakdown in front of her students was the last thing she wanted.

As she wiped up the spilled potion on the floor she could see her reflection in it and she despised what she saw. Heckitty had changed her into someone or something she never was. Putting her thoughts aside she carried on with the task in hand.

Laboratory back to the way it should be, she sat back at her desk and took some time just to try and collect her thoughts, staring into space in an almost trance-like way she was startled by the knock at the door.

"Constance", called a familiar voice

"_Great", _she thought,_ "Amelia that's all I need", _sighing inwardly she called out "come in" and in walked the Headmistress, with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you alright Constance?"

"Perfectly" she replied so automatically it was if she'd rehearsed it for years, truth was she had. Whenever she was asked that question when she was at Witch Training College she was more than aware of the consequences that would follow if she said anything else. "Why do you ask Headmistress?"

Amelia Cackle skirted about with what she wanted to say "Well it's … just with you being up so early and I wondered if it had anything to do with yesterday's events and with … Heckitty?"

At the sound of Heckitty's name Constance flinched, it was slight and barely there but Amelia saw it, she didn't say anything though, she couldn't force Constance to talk to her about something which obviously troubled her so much as much as she wanted to try and help her.

"Most certainly not, I just have a very full work schedule and precious little time to complete it in so if you don't mind", she ushered Amelia to the door; "I would rather get on please."

Amelia went to say something, but Constance was already back at her desk engrossed in reading something, she took her glasses off and rubbed her sleepy eyes before heading back to her chamber.

As the door closed Constance looked up from the blank piece of paper she had pretended to read, and realised she couldn't carry on in this way.

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**A/N: The Great Gatsby belongs to F. Scott Fitzgerald and is actually one of my favourite books, :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Firstly I should probably apologise for the, lets face it, absolutely ridiculous delay in this chapter. Writer's block and uni stress is a terrible thing. **

**This chapter is really just a little filler until the next year when I update – nah just kidding I'll try and make it a bit more frequent this time :)**

**And big thanks to Chrissiemusa, for their review for this and some of my other ff's. Much appreciated dear *hands cookies* :)**

***hands everybody else cookies/roses/carrot sticks***

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Worst Witch **

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**Chapter 3  
**

The school day had begun, and Mildred's class made their way to the potions laboratory. Seeing their Potions Mistress already at her desk they silently made their way to their desks and took out their potion books ready to let her start their lesson.

"Good Morning Girls" she greeted them, though not as sharply as usual.

"Good Morning Miss Hardbroom" they chorused.

"Now today, we shall be making a healing potion, which can be of great use when administering to cuts, burns or bruises". She closed her eyes for a split second thinking about just _how_ familiar she had been with that potion when she was younger; shaking off the thought she cleared her throat and continued explaining the lesson. "Take out your practical potion books and go to chapter 16, page 407 and you want just over half way down the page."

The girls had always wondered if their teacher had x-ray vision or just an incredibly good memory as she seemed to know the page number of _every_ single potion in _every _single book. They had discussed this several times, along with whether HB or a fire breathing dragon was the worst thing to be stuck in a room with – the dragon had won, but not by much- and came to the conclusion it was no doubt a mixture of both.

Although secretly Enid hoped she couldn't read minds too or Enid would be spending a great deal of her time in detention. And detention with HB was not a pleasant experience. For one thing she actually seemed to _want_ you to regret the misdeed which had landed you there in the first place; whereas detention with Miss Bat, in comparison was a walk in the park, sometimes nearly literally, all you had to do was get her talking about chanting and you were home dry. In fact, many times she seemed to be the one apologising for you needing to be there.

"You will see the list of ingredients and the procedure to be followed, and I want this to be followed verbatim, so no deviating away and doing your own thing", she seemed to direct the last part of the sentence to Mildred, "is that understood girls?"

"Yes Miss Hardbroom"

"You may begin", and with that she picked up the pile of 3rd year homework jotters, wondering and yet dreading what Fenella Feverfew and Griselda Blackwood had come up with this week. _Honestly, those two, if they would just put more concentration and commitment into their studies they would be highly successful, efficient witches. Its discipline they lack a- _but then she remembered it was discipline she had lacked, and she remembered the means by which it had been instilled into her, she still had the scars both physical and psychological.

"Honestly", Enid whispered, "that was hardly subtle; she might as well have just said 'Mildred Hubble make sure you don't screw it up', no offence Millie". Mildred gave a small smile but she didn't really appear to be listening she was too busy watching Miss Hardbroom, apprehension and concern present on her face.

Though Constance was looking at the pages in the jotter in front of her, she could feel Mildred staring at her and she didn't like it one bit.

"Is there something wrong Mildred?" Constance asked, without looking up.

"I … er … how … er …" she stuttered

Constance lifted her eyes from the page and raised an eyebrow, showing she was still waiting on an answer.

"No Miss Hardbroom", she finally managed to reply, slightly phased at how her teacher had known.

"Very well then, get back to work"

The class was relatively silent after that, and the only chatter was about the task in hand. Finally the bell rang, the girls packed up-_ did they have to be so noisy?, _wondered Constance,_ How difficult could it possibly be to tidy up quietly?- _and left, leaving Constance and her thoughts, unfortunately, alone once more.

XxX

"I just don't know what to do for the best", Amelia sighed as she handed Imogen a cup of tea, Davina was practically shoving the plate of homemade cakes in front of Imogen's nose. Imogen politely declined; last time she had sampled Davina's home baking she had suffered for days afterwards.

"You know Constance, she's a very, Imogen paused as she searched for the right word to describe the enigmatic witch,… private person, I doubt even Sigmund Freud could work her out".

Amelia stared at the liquid in the cup in front of her, tracing the rim with her finger. "It's just ... I've never seen her like this before." It's almost like Heckitty has some sort of hold over her.

XxX

After her last class of the day, Constance picked up the pile of books on her desk, and made her way to the library to return them; she liked predictability and order, and was not a fan or the disorganised or the spontaneous.

Griselda Blackwood, Fenella Feverfew and Poppy Merryweather were huddled in the corner studying, well they were pretending to study but they were actually reading Star Witch Weekly and getting all the gossip from the Wedding of the Year between Singer Adrianna Santani and Brother of Sorcery FM's Icy Stevens, the insatiable and previously unattainable Anthony.

"Hey you'll never believe this Gris", Fenella whispered, "an exclusive source says that the couple spent an estimated – she was cut off as the magazine was snatched from her grasp and looked up to see the formidable potions teacher standing there.

"I believe you three have more important things to do than read nonsense which is in no way is relevant or beneficial to you especially when you have an essay due in on Wednesday afternoon.

"Yes Miss Hardbroom" they all chorused.

"You can have it back at the end of term"

"But Miss that's not fair, it'll be like 4 months out of date by then-" Poppy began to argue, until a nudge in the ribs from Fenella silenced her.

Satisfied they understood, she turned on her heel and headed towards the door before stopping and addressing them: "oh and one more thing girls I expect to have 500 lines from each of you: **' **_**I will use my time in a more productive manner and will not argue with my form mistress when I don't agree with her course of action'**_on my desk first thing tomorrow and with that she left.

The three girls turned to look at each other all thinking the same thing.

Bitch.

XxX

Making her way back to the potions lab to brew some more of her beloved wide awake potion, she opened the door and was puzzled when she saw a small piece of parchment on the floor, it looked like it had been pushed under the door. Unfolding it she gasped, the confiscated magazine dropping to the floor.

_**Constance**_

_**I think we need a little chat; meet me in the woods by the old oak tree after midnight. **_

There wasn't much written on the note, it was the author of it that worried her; there was only one person whose writing was like that.

She glanced out the window and into the distance and could just about make out a figure slinking away into the shadows, with a sickening thought in her stomach she knew … It was far from over.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading and just to mention I most certainly do not share HB's view on Celebrity Gossip, in fact if I spent less time fantasising about the world of stardom, I would be a hell of a lot more productive myself … ;) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Worst Witch**

**A/N: *waves* two chapters in the one year! I've actually broken my own record! **

**Thanks goes to HB Rules for her inspiring moi, and for her lovely review too :) **

**Apart from trying to write this, I also watched (my favourite childhood movie) Matilda this afternoon –which isn't strictly relevant but- inspiration sort of comes from that, it'll make sense when you read the chapter. **

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**Chapter 4  
**

The rest of the day passed by quicker than Constance would have liked, and before she knew it, it was nearly time. She finished marking Form One's essays- unsurprised that for many, there seemed to be more red ink on the page than black, and made a note to set aside a revision session with them, followed by a further essay- arranged them in a neat bundle on her desk, before reluctantly leaving the safety of the castle.

As she headed in the direction of the woods midnight fell, and with it darkness; it was almost as if someone had unplugged all the stars in the sky and everything had suddenly snapped to blackout, which only served to unnerve her more.

Normally Constance A. Hardbroom: Deputy Head Mistress and first class potioneer, wasn't one to be afraid of something as trivial as the dark, but tonight it made her feel all the more vulnerable.

Trying to put these thoughts aside, she approached the oak tree. The oak tree was the oldest tree in the forest. It had long lost its acorn seeds, and its branches were gnarled after years of neglect and abuse at the hands of the weather, but it was still standing, and underneath it was the person who haunted Constance's very soul to the core.

"Ah, Constance, there you are", she looked at her pocket watch; "punctual as always, then again, she added cattily, it was the only thing you could get right."

Constance didn't reply: her heartbeat had increased ten fold, and her throat had constricted as she fought for every breath. It was as if there was a hand crushing her windpipe and cutting off her air supply. She closed her eyes briefly and willed herself to get through. She could do this.

She swallowed; her throat was so dry that it felt like broken glass had stuck in it.

"M-M-Mis-stress B-Broomhead" she finally managed to stammer.

"How many times have I to tell you about that damn stuttering girl?"

Constance immediately looked apologetic and went to attempt the seemingly impossible task of trying to give a reply, but Heckitty raised her hand as if to silence her.

"Forget it! Now let's not waste any time shall we?" She paused for dramatic effect "I trust you know why I am here?"

Constance nodded, still not trusting the quaver in her voice: which seemed to be ever present when she was in the presence of her former tutor.

"Well?"

The silence that hung between them could have lasted forever. Constance knew from previous experience that Mistress Heckitty Broomhead was not a patient woman and finally, finding her voice she managed to whisper.

"No. Never!"

It clearly wasn't the answer she had been expecting. "How dare you?" She thundered, before closing the gap between them, so much that they were practically inch to inch. Constance cowered away; feeling physically sick at the close invasion of her personal space and wanted nothing more but to disappear there and then.

"After all I gave to you. I must say I am deeply disappointed! I made you, Constance Hardbroom and I can take it all away again, just like that".

As she raised her hand, to click her fingers Constance instinctively flinched, Heckitty smiled sadistically relishing the power she obviously still held over her former protégée.

She toyed with her for a few moments before backhanding her; the force of the blow knocked her clean off her feet and she landed slumped on the ground, clutching the side of her face. Never, since the day she had finally escaped Broomhead's clutches had she been touched with such severity and vehemence.

She fought hard to keep her tears at bay. Seeing her cry, would only give her former tutor more ammunition for her twisted games.

"Get up" Heckitty growled lowly, almost like a lion about to attack its prey, "you're pathetic"

Constance hastily got to her feet, although she wasn't sure how long she would stay on them; her legs were shaking and felt like they would give way on her at any moment.

"Stand up straight" she barked, surely you don't need to spend some more time in the posture closet?" She let the sentence dangle in the air and Constance took it for what it was meant to be. A threat.

She shook her head and immediately straightened: the posture closet was not an experience she wished to revisit! Ever!

_**The posture closet took pride of place in Heckitty's office. Situated in the corner of, the dimly lit room: it was a tall, narrow type box, with rusty nails and pieces of broken glass stuck in it personally by Heckitty herself. **_

_**Constance had been dragged by the wrist all the way down the corridor and into the office, whilst Heckitty had hurled verbal abuse at her; before stopping at the door, grappling for the key and opening it, then practically throwing a petrified Constance inside and locking the door behind her. "And you can stay in there, until you learn how to stand up straight!' and with that she left her office to go and terrorise some more pupils.**_

_**To break her fall, she had to throw her hands out and had instantly came into contact with the glass, she screamed as the glass pierced through her skin, causing the rivulets of blood to pool. **_

_**Constance tried not to cry and desperately tried to keep her calm. Taking a few steady breaths wasn't working and she was absolutely terrified: she felt awfully closed in; it was pitch black, and one wrong move and she would meet her maker at the hands of shards of very sharp glass. **_

_**She moved around very, very carefully until she found a semi safe position to stand in, and then didn't move a muscle.**_

_**Twenty four hours later when Heckitty returned with a self-satisfied smirk on her face and released Constance; she had walked out head held high, shoulders back, and didn't dare stray from that position again after that.**_

Heckitty could tell from her eyes that she was remembering, and decided to give her a little helping hand.

Under her breath she muttered a curse and almost imperceptibly, pointed her fingers at Constance; if Constance wouldn't do as she was told, then Heckitty would be forced to take drastic action, but not before having some fun at her expense.

Starting from tonight, for every nightmare Constance had, the terror and suffering of it would increase to as much as she saw fit. Oh how she loved to be in control.

Oh how she loved to have control over Constance's mind; she would make her change her mind. There was no doubt about it; it would only be a matter of time.

Satisfied that she had scared Constance absolutely witless, she vanished into thin air, her whispers echoing in Constance's ear that she would be in touch.

As the temperature in the air increased and knowing she was finally alone, Constance's resolve finally broke and she leant against the tree for support, before sliding down it and collapsing into a graceful heap among the wet and rustled leaves, where her tears began to flow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Worst Witch. **

**A/N: Yet more mystery is arising … **

**And now I'm off to watch BBT since my kind Mum taped it for me last night *blows a kiss at HB Rules and points out she can expect the run down of Sammi's fav quotes from the episode in her email later on* ( … so basically the same as most weeks dear tee hee) :D **

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**Chapter 5  
**

_**Thunder clapped as the ferocious storm filled the air, she ran through the forest; the luminescent moon her only comfort on an otherwise dark night. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't care, she just knew she had to get away. She didn't stop to think of the dangers which could await her in the forest as she knew nothing could be as deadly as the monster currently chasing her. **_

_**It had been no more than an hour since she had ran away from Witch Training College and the clutches of her twisted tutor; her brain seemed to have lost all sense of logic, she hadn't stopped to consider what she was doing or even the consequences of such an action, she had just ran. **_

_**The storm was out of control; like a wild animal hell bent on causing as much destruction as possible and revelling in the anarchy. Not even the weather showed mercy for her as heavy rain flooded the ground, the droplets pummelled unyieldingly; it was as if a months worth of rain was falling on this one night. She was soaked right through, her long hair had come loose; wet tendrils now blowing in her face in the high winds that tore through the sky, sweeping a hand through her hair, she pushed it from her face. Her eyes sorrowful and her tears free falling, but lost in the rain. **_

_**Her chest felt tight and her legs ached; she knew they couldn't carry her for much longer, but she couldn't stop, and she daren't take the risk. Sneaking a quick glance behind her, she turned back but lost her footing when she slipped on a wet rock and tumbled to the ground, landing on her ankle. As an agonising pain shot through it, she bit down hard on her lip as she fought with all of the willpower she could muster to stifle the scream fighting its way from her mouth.**_

_**In the distance she heard footsteps and a twig snap: her heart stopped in her mouth and she felt her blood run colder than ice. Summoning all the strength she had she crawled towards the large oak tree, her fingernails like claws; desperate for something to hang onto, but all her fingers gripped was the dirt of the soil on the ground as it ran through them like granules of sand. **_

_**Finally, she reached the tree and sat behind it: it couldn't offer her protection; it could shelter her a little from the rain, but not from her. Nothing could shelter her from 'her'. A new wave of thunder shook the air; the sky seemed to darken as the moon faded to nothing, leaving her alone in the dark of the night when out of the shadows stepped her tutor. **_

"_**Constance, come out come out wherever you are" the false sense of lulling in the voice was chilling to the core; the tone attempted to be playful and light but there was no disguising the sinister quality lurking beneath it. **_

_**Drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them tight, Constance closed her eyes wishing she was somewhere else; someone else. Maybe, just maybe if she wished hard enough someone would come to her rescue, she curled up shaking, muttering a string of silent pleas to a God she didn't truly believe existed. No one came; no one ever did. She was all alone, a fate she had long accepted. **_

"_**You can run, but you can't hide." **_

_**Constance didn't move; she didn't answer; she didn't breath, holding her breath so much she could hear her own heart beat frantically against her ribcage, each beat symbolising a second closer to her doom. **_

_**Heckitty's patience was starting to wear thin "very well girl", the thin lips parted into a smile which wouldn't have looked out of place in the depths of hell "we'll do it your way."**_

_**Raising her right hand a bolt of red light shot from her fingertips and straight at the tree Constance was cowering behind. Under the intensity of the magic, coupled with the lightening in the sky, a tree branch snapped off and fell to the ground with a sharp thud. Constance screamed as it narrowly missed her by inches and crawling away from the branch she slowly looked up to see her tutor standing there: her grin resembling one of a cat who had not only got the cream, but the whole dairy factory. **_

_**Deep brown met with yellow snake like as their eyes locked, fixated on one another's next move. Heckitty took a step forward and Constance instinctively backed away, every inch she moved brought further agony until finally her hands could push no more; her arms crumbled like pillars of sand and she collapsed amongst the wet leaves. **_

_**Heckitty loomed over Constance's delicate frame like a ravenous wolf about to attack its prey, she brought her hands together before parting them like the sea and sending a bolt of pure energy straight at Constance, with much more force than she had done the tree. The flames engulfed her in searing agony, as the raw energy fizzled and crackled, she could feel it within her; burning her flesh, burning her insides, even breathing was becoming impossible, her breaths shallow and fast as she clung to every one she could. As it cut deep into her cheek Constance could no longer keep herself from screaming out. The rain fell from the sky like tears of pity; crying out in pain for her body and for her soul. **_

Constance awoke to find herself drenched in sweat and not in rain; her throat felt horribly constricted; her ears echoing the sound of her own screams and hot salty tears spilling from her eyes, flowing freely like a river of sorrow. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm her racing heart, she let her eyes adjust to the dim features of her room before magically lighting a candle on the bedside table; the small glow of warmth coming from it offering just a little comfort to her as she tried to process her thoughts.

This was about the tenth time in the past few weeks she had been reduced to this. The tenth time she had awoken gasping for air and screaming out for help, the memories of the youth she had tried to suppress haunting her once more. Whilst nightmares of her youth were practically a regular occurrence, this past while there was something different about them; they were too vivid, they seemed too real.

She hadn't slept in weeks, the Dreamless Sleep Potion hadn't worked, it hadn't kept them at bay, as a last resort she had even tried the Sopor Potion: the potion notably powerful, and not on the list of 'Potentially Dangerous Potions" for nothing. Double the strength of Dreamless sleep, it put the user into a deep deep sleep, but even going over the required dosage by even half a millilitre could result in the user never waking from their slumber. Constance didn't have this problem, as it lasted about 10 minutes before she would awake drenched in fear, it was as if some deep dark force was pushing through, forcing the horrors of her childhood to resurface.

As a result she had began to rely more and more on Wide Awake Potion, doubling the dosage allowing her to carry out her everyday duties, but bringing the side effects of an absolutely pounding headache, which caused her to be more irritable than usual but incredibly distant; she knew it and knew it had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the staff and the girls.

That was what killed her the most; the looks of pity they had in their eyes when they thought she wasn't watching, the way the staffroom would fall silent when she walked in, before some pointless and trivial conversation would be started in a bid to cover up what they had all been discussing only minutes before. In her eyes, pity went hand in hand with weakness. The weak were pitied, she couldn't let herself succumb to that human quality or everything she stood for on the outside would fall apart, the infallible mask of perfection would slip and she would be left more vulnerable than ever.

Droplets of tears were still falling from her eyes, alone her barriers were truly down. She mentally scolded herself for her own weakness, as she felt them sting her right cheek. Instinctively she reached up to touch it, and slowly turned her hand around to find herself staring at the ruby red droplets of her own blood staining her fingertips.

XxX

In the opposite end of the Castle Mildred Hubble awoke with a start; she had been having a nightmare and was all too glad to have woken up and found herself back in reality, safe in her - if slightly hard and uncomfortable - bed in the school. She didn't know where the nightmare had come from and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She tried to push it to the furthest corners of her mind, but it wouldn't leave, playing out like a tainted and broken film reel. She had seen a young girl; who reminded her so much of someone, though at first she hadn't been able to place who, running through what looked like the clearings of a forest in the middle of a storm, she was clearly running away from something or someone deadly as Mildred could feel her every emotion coursing through her own body; she could feel her utter desperation; she could feel her unbridled terror; and the sorrow in her heart and soul. She had seen her lose her footing as she slipped and fell, she saw a figure approach from the distance, the lines blurred until they had stepped out of the shadows and into view then, all had become clear: Heckitty Broomhead.

She couldn't understand where the School Inspector came into the equation, after all the inspection had been a few months ago now. She watched as Heckitty had approached the young girl, she watched as she shot the bolt of raw energy at her, and as she heard her piercing scream fill the air, she felt the scream rise in her own throat, she felt the pain in her own body, burning like it was on fire. She saw the young girl look up: the pure terror in her pleading brown eyes so plain to see, suddenly the girl's eyes seemed to lock with Mildred's own only for a split second, but it was all it took for the realisation to become clear. The young girl was her Potions Teacher, and Deputy Head of the School: Constance Hardbroom.

It was then Mildred had woken.

XxX

Constance's eyes had still not moved away from her hand and the blood glistening on it, seeming all the more red as it caught in the light of the candle. Feeling gripped with overwhelming nausea, she stumbled into her bathroom, only just reaching it in time. When she had finished she straightened up, her eyes catching the mirror above the sink: which showed her cheek to be clear, no sign of a cut was there. A quick glance down at her hand showed it to be free from blood, but she knew what she had seen. Her eyes, along with her judgement, were two things she trusted above all else. Were they failing her? She couldn't understand it, but a knot in her stomach told her sinister forces were at play.

Looking back to the mirror she nearly had a heart attack, for she was not staring at her own reflection but that of another's: the snake like eyes burning into her own, seeing into the depths of her dark soul, she turned sharply, her breath caught in her throat, but no one was there, she was the only one in the room.

Shakily, she made her way back to her bedroom, clutching the wall for support like her life depended on it; the feeling her legs would give way on her at any moment and she would fall to the floor, like a sandcastle crumbling to nothing. A strong gust of wind blowing through the window knocked her from her thoughts, as well as knocking the ordered pile of papers from her desk in one clean sweep. She raised an eyebrow in puzzlement; sure she had closed the shutters of the window earlier on, but her brain in too much turmoil and fuddled to really think about it.

Sighing, she bent down and snatched up the papers with the intention of marking them since she had to do something to distract herself, as sleep clearly eluded her. The top paper caught her attention. There was nothing there. It was totally blank, but it seemed to emit a glow for a few seconds before the words trickled on to the page in blood red, until the message was clear.

**in cauda venenum**

As the meaning hit her; the paper fell from her shaking hands. It had confirmed what she had thought deep down. This was down to Heckitty. That much was clear. Constance knew she had two choices: fight her or play her game, and in all honesty, she wasn't sure which she was more scared of.

XxX

Mildred was sitting in bed, curled up to Tabby as she sobbed into his fur. She couldn't understand why she had dreamt what she had, she knew it must mean something and something significant at that; witches dreams were rarely coincidence, the figment of the imagination usually bore a strong reality. If that were true then Mildred suddenly understood so much more about why her teacher was the way she was, the empathy she felt for the strict woman overwhelming: seeing and feeling the horror of what she had been through.

She didn't know what to do: she knew she had to tell someone what she had dreamt, and not just anybody: she had to tell Constance Hardbroom. How would she even begin that conversation? words failed her brain, as she dissolved into sobs once more.

As her tears fell, she felt them sting her cheek, reaching into her bedside drawer and taking out a small compact mirror, she opened it, her eyes widening at what she saw. There, on her right cheek, was a gash which hadn't been there before, gingerly she reached up to touch it, flinching as the water of her tears mixed with the droplets of ruby red blood tainting her cheek, and now her fingertips.


End file.
